


This Bed Is Our Frame

by Inspiray



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Fingering, First Time, Frottage, Marriage, Multi, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, slices of life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-11 22:55:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7910794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inspiray/pseuds/Inspiray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the war, before the serum, there was Bucky and Steve.</p><p>Written for the 2016 Stucky Big Bang</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1932-Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9/2/16: edited for formatting. No content change.

It’s January and Steve was royally pissed. He’s been stuck in bed for three days because his stupid fever won’t go below 101 degrees. His mom is working her day shift. And on top of feeling miserable he’s blown through the backlog of paper serials Bucky brought him over the weekend. 

To be fair, he was mad about other things too. The pajamas Steve was starting to sweat through were the same pair he’d been wearing for nearly four years. It wasn’t necessarily that his Ma couldn’t afford to buy him another set, nor did he have any sentimental value attached to the them. No. It was because at thirteen years old Steve was nearly the same size he’d been at ten. While his pajamas weren’t quite as baggy as they had been four years ago, they still didn’t fit. 

Comparatively, Bucky had gone through three new sets of pajamas, each bigger than the last. After the third pair lasted barely a month, Mrs. Barnes had given up and told Bucky to sleep in an undershirt and his shorts until he slowed down growing. 

Like most of their classmates, Bucky was finally starting to become a man. Every so often his voice would leap an octave before settling back around the same timbre of the fog horns in the harbor. Last week Bucky had been chatting up Mary Louise when his voice starting bouncing all over the place. She’d laughed and moved on with her friends, while Steve tried to hide his own laughter from an embarrassed Bucky. 

Steve followed this train of thought, this discontent with his body, into a spiral of increasingly annoying revelations. He was frowning at the wall his bed was pushed up against when something heavy dropped on the foot of his bed. 

“Hey there Stevie. You miss me while I was gone?” 

Steve rolled over to see Bucky kneeling on the end of his mattress. The tips of Bucky’s nose and ears were pink from the cold. He hadn’t peeled off his jacket yet; thankfully his shoes had been left by the front door. 

“I wasn’t missing anything,” Steve replied flatly. He tried to bury his face in the pillow and pretended to ignore Bucky. Unfortunately the restriction of airflow sent him into a mini-coughing fit. 

“Whoa, just breathe buddy.” Bucky’s hand smoothed over Steve’s back with practiced ease. He wasn’t as good as Steve’s Ma (no one would ever be able to measure up to her), but Bucky had learned from the best. 

Slowly the coughing subsided. 

“You aren’t supposed to make the patient worse Buck,” Steve groused. He glared at Bucky over his shoulder, but the twitch at the corner of his lips gave it away. 

“I guess my charm and good looks are too much for you.” Bucky’s grin was obnoxious. It made Steve smile, even though he was trying to roll his eyes instead. “I gotcha homework, handwriting exercises, and even even a note from the teach. Says ‘get well soon, I need someone to clap my erasers.’”

“You get stuck clapping erasers either way Buck,” said Steve. Carefully so as to not jostle Bucky or exacerbate his own sore muscles, Steve scooted up against the head of the bed frame with a pillow behind him so they both had enough room to fit comfortably. 

Bucky crawled up to sit by him. “Yeah yeah, but for you it's usually a good cause. When I do it, it's because I got in trouble for something stupid. Here’s your homework.”

Steve took the textbook and opened it in his lap. Several sheets of paper had been stuffed inside the title page-- his penmanship exercises-- and on top of it all was a note from their teacher with the directions for making up his math homework. There was no mention of erasers. 

When Steve pointed this out, Bucky shrugged. “I may have exaggerated just a bit.”

“Whatever jerk.” A cough pushed its way out. “Tell me about school today.”

“Well, first off Johnny McClain put a tack on Ellen’s chair again…”

Steve skimmed over the work Bucky had brought as he listened. The familiar cadence of Bucky’s voice brought him a sense of calm in the middle of a big fat episode of grumpiness. Hearing who broke their pencil in half and how they’d gone over the geography of the United States wasn’t exciting at all, but somehow Bucky made it sound like an epic adventure. 

“But guess what happened after geography,” Bucky said. He pushed aside the textbook in Steve’s lap, making sure he was the center of attention. 

Steve shrugged. “I dunno. You’re the one telling me.” He sniffled a bit. 

“I asked Evelyn if she wanted to go to the movies with me on Saturday.” As he spoke, Bucky looked down and fiddled with a loose thread on the blanket. “She said yes.”

“That's great!” Steve told him, plastering a grin on his face. He was happy for Bucky, but he felt sick too much to be very excited. Deep in Steve’s chest, something was starting to feel funny. 

“You okay pal?” Bucky scooted forward on his belly just a bit so he could get a better look at Steve. When he reached up to feel Steve’s temperature, Steve let him. “You don’t feel warmer than you were.”

Steve shook off Bucky’s hand. “I’m fine Bucky. You know, she came up to me the other day and asked if you thought she was pretty. I was going to tell you, but forgot.” It was a lie. Evelyn had asked him if Bucky thought she was pretty, but Steve had every intention of forgetting to mention it. 

Nontheless, Bucky still perked at it. “Yeah?”

Steve nodded. “I did my best to put in a good word for you.” This at least was true. 

A wide grin took over Bucky’s face, but he mercifully changed the topic. 

~*~

That Friday Bucky slicked his hair back and adjusted his shirtsleeves for the millionth time. He was a nervous wreck, all full of jitters right up until he picked her up at her apartment building. 

Evelyn was wearing a pretty blue dress with wool stockings. . 

“You look really nice,” Bucky told her. 

“Thank you,” she replied, nearly glowing. 

Bucky held his arm out to her and they made their way to the movie theatre four blocks over. As they walked, Evelyn chattered about schoolwork and her siblings. With each step, Bucky’s nerves faded into excitement. When Evelyn started on about a new comic strip, Bucky took the opportunity to jump in. 

“Did you hear they’ll be doing a radio soap about it?” 

Her eyes widened. “Are they really? That’s so exciting!”

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded. “I heard that Cosby will be doing some of the voices.”

Evelyn seemed impressed with all the details Bucky was able to spout off about the upcoming soap, and the original comic itself. For the most part, he was parroting what Steve had told him about the daring new format and illustration methods, but each time Evelyn turned her dazzling smile on him, Bucky thanked god he’d hung on Steve’s every word. 

Once Bucky paid for their tickets they picked their seats and the lights dimmed shortly thereafter. The newsreels were nearly over when Evelyn shifted, nudging his shoulder with hers. A minute later she did it again, bumping their knees. After the third time Bucky looked over at her. The theatre wasn’t the fanciest by any means, but he’d done his best to pick one with good, comfortable seats. 

Evelyn looked down as Bucky’s elbow on the arm rest before gazing up at him through her lashes. Recognition dawned on him. Tentatively Bucky placed his hand on her arm. Satisfaction spread over Evelyn’s face as he took her hand.

For the entirety of the movie shorts, Evelyn kept her hand tucked in his. Bucky’s heart thumped in excitement from the newness of it all. One or twice he’d held a girl’s hand at school, but nothing came of it. This was the first real one-on-one date he’d taken a girl on. No one to police them. 

On the outside Bucky did his best to keep cool. He kept his palms from becoming sweaty through a combination of strategic positioning and sheer will. When the lights came on and the screen went dark, Evelyn slipped her hand out of his and smoothed her skirt as she stood up. In the lobby they pulled on their coats and scarves before braving the cold.

The sunlight was starting to fade when they shuffled out of the theater. Bucky had planned to take Evelyn to Ayer’s drugstore for a soda, but when the wind blew he changed his mind. It was cold, and there was nowhere decent enough for a date that served hot drinks he could afford. 

Back at Evelyn’s apartment building she stopped them at the side staircase, tucked just off the main walkway. 

“Thanks for taking me out Bucky, I had a really swell time.” As she spoke she toyed with an errant curl. Her pretty pink lips curled into a smile and she looked up at him through her lashes. 

“I had a great time too,” Bucky said. He paused. “Do you want to do it again sometime?” It seemed like the right thing to say, especially when Evelyn’s face lit up even more.

“I’d love to.”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment. FInally Bucky stuffed his hands in his pockets and kicked at a small piece of gravel. “I’ll see you later then?”

Evelyn nodded. “Yeah.”

Once she disappeared up the stairs, Bucky headed home. On Monday morning he recounted the whole thing to Steve on the way to school. Even though it was just the two of them, Bucky had a small urge to embellish the tale just a bit; to make it sound a lot less boring and awkward between the good parts. But he resisted. 

Steve was quiet but not inattentive. He smiled and reacted at all the right parts. At the end of the story, Bucky circled back around to their walk to the theater. 

“Thanks for telling me about the soap Stevie.” Bucky bumped Steve’s shoulder with his own. It was barely a touch; just enough to feel but with no real force. “Even if I mess this up, Evelyn will probably come to you for more news. Apparently she’s as big a fan as you.”

The smile Steve gave him was just a tad crooked.

~*~

That Saturday Bucky took Maryanne to a free concert at a nearby park. It was a little thing; a couple of neighborhood musicians getting together and playing for free. In the summer they put together a show nearly every week, but the colder weather was more hit and miss. 

It wasn’t terribly cold that day, so Bucky and Evelynn bundled up and took a blanket to sit on. Bucky brought along a thermos of weak, watery coffee. There much taste to it, but at least it was warm. 

The music was a mash-up of bandstand and drinking songs, some of which made Bucky’s ears burn from mortification. Evelyn didn’t seem to mind and instead sipped at the warm coffee water and listened intently. 

Afterward they sat along the treeline and waited for the worst of the crowd to clear out.

“Ya know, I’m really glad you asked me,” Evelyn said. “Bucky Barnes, you are one sweet guy.” She smiled and ducked her head a moment, making her dark curls bounce. 

“You’re pretty sweet yourself,” Bucky replied. The mood had shifted and he wasn’t quite sure what else to say in return. 

Evelyn looked up at him through her lashes, almost shy. In Bucky’s stomach something turned flips. Next thing he knew, Evelyn was pressing her lips to his. 

The kiss was brief; a warm, dry brush of their lips as they bumped noses. Bucky froze up in surprise. He didn’t grab Evelyn by the waist or dip her or hold her close to him like they did in films. WHen he finally made to move, Evelyn pulled back with a satisfied smile. The freckles across her cheeks were dusted with pink. Her quickened breathing matched Bucky’s pounding heart. 

“Wow,” Bucky said. His head was buzzing with a million thoughts, none of which he could pin down. 

Evelyn blushed even more and looked down at the fabric of her coat. Picking at an imaginary loose thread, she said “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now. I’ve been sweet on you since October.”

“Really?” One word sentences seemed to be his specialty of the night. 

Evelyn nodded her head. “Really.” 

The walk back was a blur that ended with them standing in the stairwell of Evelyn’s building. 

“Thanks for taking me out tonight,” she said. They were standing so close that Bucky could pick out every freckle sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. “The music was great.”

Bucky stammered out some sort of reply. He was more focused on the way she pressed their bodies closer. When she tipped her face up, Bucky realized what was going on. 

Giving up on conversation he put his hands on her waist as she looped her arms around his shoulders. A sudden swell of want gave Bucky the last push to kiss her. The second time wasn’t much more graceful, but Evelyn didn’t seem to mind. 

When they broke apart Evelyn was blushing, but she seemed pleased. 

“I will definately see you on Monday,” she told him. Evelyn pecked a final kiss on Bucky’s cheek and slipped out of his arms. 

Bucky managed to wave dumbly as she disappeared up the stairwell. 

That night Bucky dreamed about the kiss. Only it wasn’t just Evelyn. Sometimes he was kissing her and holding her hand and they were out together somewhere that never really materialized in his mind. That was fine. It was normal thing for a teenage boy to dream about. 

Every so often when his dream self blinked, suddenly Steve was the one wrapped in Bucky’s arms. As he dreamed, he didn’t think anything of it. In the dream world it made sense; something told him it was okay as he pulled dream-Steve closer. 

But when he awoke alone and in too-tight pajama pants, Bucky was rattled. He wasn’t sure who exactly had riled him up more. When the dream began reoccuring over the next weeks, Bucky finally admitted to himself that he was in trouble. 

~*~

It was mid-January when Sarah Rogers was back pulling long shifts at the hospital. Working nights meant that Steve went to Bucky’s after school more often than not. 

Steve was at the Barnes kitchen table studying geometry with Bucky and two of his sisters. The oldest, Rebecca, had just started junior high while Edith was still in elementary school. They finished long before Steve and Bucky and disappeared upstairs, making a general racket as they went. 

After checking to see Bucky was still immersed in his chemistry textbook, Steve slid one foot across the floor under the table. When his ankle rested against Bucky’s he forcibly relaxed his posture; tried to be casual. But, Bucky didn’t seem to notice. 

Steve wasn’t sure if he was thankful or annoyed. Yeah, he’d encouraged Bucky somewhat to pursue Evelyn but now he could have kicked himself. He’d hoped that maybe if Bucky got a girlfriend it would magically fix everything. That it would make it all ok. 

Every time he thought about Bucky holding Evelyn’s hand he felt sick to his stomach. 

He worked to shove those thoughts aside and nearly succeeded when the telephone rang. A few seconds later Mrs. Barnes rushed in to answer. 

The call was brief. Neither of them had settled in to eavesdrop before Mrs. Barnes hung up. 

“Steve,” she said as she turned. “That was your mother. Someone went home sick and she took the rest of their shift. You’ll be staying with us tonight.” There was something frazzled in her expression as she glanced between Steve and the ceiling. 

Bucky nudged him under the table. “Sleepover on a weeknight? Getting wild there Stevie.” The teasing smile Bucky gave him made the back of Steve’s neck hot. 

“Not too wild,” Mrs. Barnes interrupted. “You two still have school tomorrow.”

Bucky’s response was to groan dramatically. 

His mother rolled her eyes. “When you two finish your homework start peeling potatoes for dinner.”

“Yes m’am.”

When Mrs. Barnes left the room, Bucky turned his grin on Steve. “Hey, this means you can tell me more about those comics.”

Steve forced a smile. “Yeah, great.”

After schoolwork, dinner, and dishes he followed Bucky up to his room.

Having all sisters meant Bucky had a room to himself. The trade-off was it being small. Most of the space was taken up by a single bed and a small chest of drawers. 

Bucky flopped face first onto the mattress. “You can have first shower,” he told Steve. The quilt under his face muffled his words. 

Once they’d both washed and brushed their teeth, Steve and Bucky climbed into bed together. As kids they’d shared a bed plenty of times, but since becoming teenagers it was happening less and less. Tonight was too cold for one or the other to sleep on the floor, so Steve settled for awkwardly balancing on the far edge of the bed. 

With the light off, they lay side by side in the darkness. On the other side of the room the radiator hummed. General noise from the neighborhood filtered in; the growl of the occasional car engine or a dog barking. Steve forced himself to breathe deeply and evenly as if he were asleep. There wasn’t much space between them, but Steve was determined to act as if he were in another room entirely. 

“Hey Steve.” Bucky’s voice was nearly a whisper, but in the darkness he might as well have yelled. 

Steve forced himself not to respond. Their combined body heat was warming the blankets and there was no way Steve could keep it together if he had to acknowledge Bucky’s proximity. 

“I know you’re awake. You’re doing that weird breathing thing where you sound too even.”

Internally Steve swore. He opened one eye, his good one, and slid it towards Bucky. “What?”

It came out a bit sharper than he intended. Bucky paused but continued. 

“You know when I took Evelyn out last weekend?”

“Yeah.”

“Before I took her home she, uh, she kissed me.”

Steve’s gut twisted and churned. “Ok,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant about it all. 

“Then she kissed me again when I took her back to her building.”

In the dark Bucky’s expression was difficult to read, especially with only one eye. Steve was quite a moment, trying to work out what to say without revealing how jealous he was. 

“Was it your first kiss?” he finally asked. 

Fabric rustled as Bucky presumably nodded his head. “Yeah, it was. Don’t think it was her first kiss though.”

“Did you like it?” 

In his heart Steve was torn. On one hand the selfish part of him wanted Bucky to hate it, to find kissing Evelyn disgusting. But the rational part of him wanted to be excited for Bucky. 

“It was pretty good.” A pause and more rustling. “I didn’t really know what I was doing, but I think it was all right.”

“That’s great,” Steve said. He swallowed hard around the words and rolled to face away from Bucky. “I’m going to sleep. Night.”

Bucky’s answering “G’night” was a bit wobbly but Steve didn’t notice. 

When Steve finally fell asleep, he dreamed. All of the thoughts he’d tried to push aside that evening surged back. His dream self was warm and comfortable with a distinct feeling of satisfaction and rightness. The emotions lingered, materializing long before anything else. He was fully relaxed when someone else filtered in bit by bit. 

Brown hair. Limbs that were filling out with muscle. Most prominent was a pair of lips surrounded by the beginnings of stubble. The warmth Steve felt inside and out deepened. 

Without realizing, Steve reached out and soon Bucky was kissing him. It made total sense in the dream world. Why shouldn’t they be kissing? Steve relaxed and let himself be kissed. Warmth radiated from deep in his chest. It wasn’t like a fever, but a smooth wave of contentment. 

For no telling how long Steve floated in bliss. He didn’t just kiss Bucky the whole time; they talked too. Bucky’s voice was a low-pitched almost-mumble. The words weren’t clear enough for Steve to follow the conversation, but he was content with listening and basking in its sound. 

Steve rolled over and suddenly the scene shifted to Bucky’s bedroom. There was enough hind-brain functioning for him to realize where he was and why. Staying with Bucky. Ma pulling a night shift. 

Next to him, Bucky was sprawled on his back as much as he could be. 

While Steve was partially awake, his brain was still in dreamland. Faced with Bucky so close and his own inhibitions lowered, Steve slowly moved closer. He settled pressed up against Bucky’s side, savoring the warmth. As he shifted Bucky turned his face towards Steve, eyes flittering in half sleep. 

“Wha’?” Sleep slurred his words. “You kay?” Bucky asked. 

“Mhmm.” Steve tilted his head up so they were nearly face to face. And kissed him. 

It was better than anything Steve’s mind had conjured before. Everything was warm and slow. Bucky’s lips were a bit chapped and the whole kiss was kind of sloppy and uncoordinated but, it was still enough to tingle deep in Steve’s gut. 

A noise in the alley jolted Steve out of his dream state. He jerked back almost violently, horrified. 

It wasn’t a dream. 

Bucky’s face scrunched in offense. His eyes fluttered, trying to work out what had just happened even though he was barely awake. Back in his throat he made a displeased noise. When Steve said nothing Bucky seemed to wake up more. 

“Wha’ ya doin’?” he finally asked. 

“Nothin’,” Steve replied, not meeting his eye. 

“Yeah, you were,” Bucky argued. “You kiss me?”

There was no point in lying. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to.”

Bucky didn’t seem pleased or displeased; more sleep-drunk than anything. “Good,” he said finally. 

It made things even more confusing to Steve’s sleep-addled brain. Maybe he was dreaming again?

For a moment it seemed as if Bucky had fallen back asleep. A sharp, full-bodied jerk from him startled Steve. 

“We need to talk,” Bucky slurred. “Wanna kiss you again, but I got questions. When we wake up.”

Relief coursed through Steve. “Okay.” 

Bucky nodded before shifting around and promptly falling back asleep. 

Steve was a little confused under his initial relief. Bucky hadn’t yelled or thrown him in the floor or even done anything really. Blinking against sleep, Steve tried to work out what Bucky could want to talk about. His brain kept sticking on one thought: Bucky wanted to kiss him again. 

Snugged up under the blankets, Steve was out faster than he could realize. 

~*~

Tension hung in the air the next morning as Steve and Bucky readied for school. They gulped down watery oatmeal and pulled on their coats. Steve kept a spare set of clothes at Bucky’s, so at least he was facing the day with a clean shirt. 

After making sure the girls were dropped off at their school, Steve and Bucky turned the corner and headed to the senior high school. 

Bucky stopped Steve in the middle of the side-walk, looking around to see who was within earshot. Satisfied he focused in on Steve. 

“Last night, what made you do that?” he asked softly. 

Steve looked at the concrete as he thought out his response. After a few seconds and a small sigh he look up at Bucky and squared himself like he was about to be handed the world’s worst friendship blow-out. “I thought I was dreaming,” he admitted. “But I’ve wanted to for a while.”

“I thought I was dreaming too,” Bucky said after a moment. “But I’m glad I wasn’t.”

Hope budded in Steve’s veins. 

“We’re going to be late if we don’t hurry. So let’s figure this out after school?”

Steve nodded. “Definitely.”


	2. 1932-Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of fluff. Next chapter earns the E rating. Promise.

Saturday of the next week Bucky found himself staring in the bathroom mirror as he carefully combed back his hair. His heart felt like it would pound out of his chest; it was like his date with Evelyn but worse. With Evelyn if he made a fool of himself and she rejected him it would have been disappointing, but not the end of the world. This time around he was taking Steve on a date. Screwing this up meant messing up friendship in addition to losing his crush. 

Despite the nerves, Bucky was still excited. 

After a lot of convincing and awkward conversation he’d finally convinced Steve to let him take him out on a date. Of course things were going to be a little different than if one of them were a girl, and not just because neither were wearing a dress. But with things sorted out like they had been, Bucky wanted to make sure he did things right. And that meant wooing Steve. 

Once his hair was arranged just so, Bucky checked his reflection in the mirror. He was dressed nicely, like he had been when he took Evelyn to the movies a few weeks ago. Not quite Sunday best, but not what he wore to climb around on the fire escape with Steve.

WIth a final deep breath and appraising look, Bucky turned from the mirror, pulled on his coat, and headed out the door. Steve was waiting for him at the cinema. Bucky had wanted to pick Steve up at his apartment, but it had been vetoed on the grounds of Mrs. Rogers being tired from her night shifts and the cold. 

“Hey,” Bucky said. As he walked over to Steve, butterflies started up in his belly. “Ready to get our seats?”

“Sure,” Steve replied. For once the flush on his cheeks wasn’t from the cold or a fever. 

At the box office Bucky paid for their tickets and inside bought a small bag of popcorn for them to share. Both times Steve reached for money in his own pocket, but Bucky was faster. It wasn’t the difference in their financial situations that made Bucky pay for it all. He just thought it was kind of lame to make your date pay for their own tickets; he’d done the same thing with Evelyn. 

They grabbed seats at the back of the theatre. Most of the time couples would sit in the back to neck, but there wasn’t many attendees for their showing. Sitting there with Steve made something warm in Bucky’s chest. He was taking Stevie on a date, a real date, and they were sitting in the back without anyone batting an eye. 

“Popcorn?” he offered, holding the bag out. 

For a long moment Steve stared at it, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Sure,” he said finally, and grabbed a few pieces off the top. 

The lights went down and the newsreels started shortly thereafter. Poorly shot advertisements for work in California were squished between dancing mice and advertisements for the latest health aids. There was very little in the way of real news; things were still the same. 

When the show finally began, Bucky started to relax. He glanced over at Steve, who smiled back at him. Bit by bit Bucky relaxed back into his seat, letting the tension drain out of his shoulders. 

He was on a date. He was on a date with Steve. He was on a date with Steve and it was an actual real date. 

All of it together made Bucky feel stupidly giddy; the nerves all but gone. 

There weren’t enough people in the audience to fill the theatre even half way. Steve took the opportunity to make little comments to Bucky during the film. Every comment had his lips brushing over Bucky’s ear, breath hot on his neck. 

For a good part of the film Bucky wondered if it would be ok to hold Steve’s hand. It was dark enough he thought, but every time he made up his mind he was frozen. When the credits rolled he wanted to smack himself. 

“Wanna get a soda?” Bucky asked once they were back outside on the sidewalk. As he spoke he fingered the loose change in his pocket. He’d done some extra work for his neighbors, but it was more than worth it. “My treat,” he added Steve seemed uncertain. 

“Sure.” Steve shrugged. “I’ll get them next time.”

They made their way to Ayer’s Drugs one block over and found two empty seats together. 

“What sounds good to you Stevie?”

Steve kicked him lightly under the counter. “Anything. You’re paying, you decide.”

“Hey, I’m asking because I wanna know.” Bucky frowned for a moment before continuing. “I’m not sure what to get either.”

And it was true; he wasn’t sure what to get. He’d done his best to time their date so Ayers wouldn’t be cleaned out after the Friday night rush and the lack of marked-out items was oddly lucrative. 

“What can I get for you boys?” the soda jerk asked. He was Mr. Ayer’s oldest son, Thomas, and he’d worked the counter when Bucky came with Evelyn. 

“An egg cream please,” Steve told him. 

“And for you?” he asked, turning to Bucky. 

“We’re sharing,” Bucky replied. After the words were out of his mouth he realized how it sounded. It was true, they were sharing a soda on a date, but it still wasn’t something Bucky wanted to go waving around just yet. 

Thomas shrugged and turned around to make their drink. 

The drugstore was relatively empty, but thankfully Thomas left to re-stock shelves once he’d served them. 

“Hey,” Steve half-whined when Bucky took a sip out of his straw. “THere’s two.”

“Like we haven’t swapped spit before.” The words slipped out before Bucky could stop them.

Steve’s eyes went wide from shock for a moment, before he started laughing. “I guess you’re right.” He leaned over the counter and dropped the still wrapped straw back in the box. 

Bucky made a show out of taking sip from the straw, before he nudged the glass closer to Steve. Steve rolled his eyes and made a face before taking a sip. 

The evening rush was just beginning when they left Ayer’s. Steve pulled his coat tighter around himself when they as they stepped out the door into the chilly wind. 

As they walked they talked about a lot of nothing. Bucky couldn’t help the warmth that bubbled from his chest up into his face each time Steve threw a smile his way. After today he could die happy. 

Bucky walked Steve up the back steps to his floor, not wanting it to end. Their conversation trailed off as a sense of awkwardness hung in the air. 

“I had a good time Buck,” Steve finally said, hands still stuffed in his pockets. “Maybe we can do it again?”

Bucky nodded eagerly. “Yeah, definitely.”

They stood there for a moment more, not speaking. 

“I want to kiss you,” Bucky blurted. “But I didn't know if it was ok to do that in the hall.”

Steve’s face turned red and he glanced down at the floor before meeting Bucky’s eyes. “Uh, sure. I mean, there isn’t anyone else out here.”

Bucky looked over his shoulder before he darted forward and pecked a short kiss on Steve’s mouth. He swore his temperature went up about a thousand degrees. 

A goofy smile spread across Steve’s face. “See you later?” he asked, pulling they key out of his pocket. 

“Yeah.”

Bucky waited until he was outside the building and nearly a block over before he punched his fist in the air and whooped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is probably the shortest of all the chapters, but I really didn't want to mush it together with the next chapter because there is a bit of a time skip. I'm planning on having the next chapter up either tomorrow or Saturday (the whole thing is written, I'm just breaking up the posting so I can self-beta each chapter).


	3. 1935

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the smut!
> 
> Just a note, Steve is 17 here while Bucky is 18 because of the way their birthdays fall. If that icks you out you might want to skip to the very end. (For the record this chapter abides by New York state age of consent laws, seeing as Bucky is only 4 months older than Steve.)

“C’mon Stevie, I’m gonna have the house all to myself.” Bucky’s mouth moved over the sensitive skin of Steve’s neck, making him shiver. “No one around, and I can kiss ya all you want.”

“Not so loud!” Steve hissed. He glanced across the room at his bedroom door; it was half open and while he was pretty sure his Ma wasn’t paying them any mind, he didn’t really want to find out. 

“Sorry.” Bucky pulled back and leaned against the wall with a sigh. 

They were at Steve’s after school doing homework. It was a month or two before they graduated, and while Steve knew he would pass just fine he still didn’t want to slack off. Bucky was passing with flying colors and apparently decided to take the opportunity to distract Steve. 

“Mom and Dad are taking the girls out to visit Aunt Edith,” Bucky tried again. “They need someone to watch the house.”

Steve sighed and set his textbook aside. “I’m trying to actually work on the assignment.”

“I can see that.”

“Jerk,” Steve said with a small frown. 

“Please?” asked Bucky. He put a hand on Steve’s arm, his skin rough and warm. “You don’t have to, but I do want to spend time with you. And it doesn’t have to be in bed.”

As much as Steve was acting put out, the idea of spending an entire uninterrupted day with Bucky seemed like a dream come true. While they weren’t hiding what they were doing (Bucky had the worst poker-face ever), Steve was careful to make sure he didn’t broadcast it either. The last time they’d been able to let loose was when they snuck down to one of the queer neighborhoods. 

“If you can pretend to behave,” Steve said, trying to suppress his smile as he gave Bucky the hairy eyeball. 

“Expect nothing less.”

~*~

 

Saturday Steve was knocking at the back door of the Barnes’ house. 

Someone fumbled with the lock and the door swung open to reveal a half-awake Bucky. When he saw Steve the early morning grumpiness on his face dissipated into something goofy and fond. 

“Hey doll,” Bucky said softly. “You wanna come on in?” He stepped back to let Steve in, grabbing his wrist the second he stepped over the threshold. WIth his other hand Bucky closed the door and locked it.

Compared to Bucky, Steve felt slightly overdressed. Bucky had clearly just stumbled out of bed if his underwear and ratty bathrobe were anything to go by. 

“Good morning,” Steve teased, tipping his head up for a kiss. “Nice pajamas you’ve got there.”

Bucky huffed in Steve’s face a little, using his morning breath as retaliation. 

Even through the bathrobe Steve felt the warmth Bucky put off. His skin was slightly flushed from sleep and he smelled warm and homey. 

“You wanna come back to bed with me?” Bucky asked. He stroked the back of Steve’s neck, making a shiver work its way through his body.

Steve nodded against his shoulder and soon Bucky was rearranging the blankets around them. They both stripped down to nothing but their shorts and part of Steve wanted to take those off too. Pressing up against Bucky skin to skin gave him warmth nothing else could. 

For the next hour or two they dozed, floating in and out of sleep and tucked up warm against each other. A bit of chill from winter clung to the air outside; but Bucky’s family turned down the radiator last month, so it was perfect in their little nest of blankets. 

Steve woke himself up pressing back against Bucky. There was a tell-tale warm hardness pressing against his ass and it made Steve’s hips stutter. He wasn’t quite sure if Bucky was completely awake, but Steve wriggled so the hardness could fit better. 

Of course his own shorts were tight and hot. His dickhead pushed against the seam of his fly in a touch that was equal parts pleasureable and teasing. 

“Stevie,” Bucky sing-songs in his ear. As he spoke Bucky pressed closer and ground slowly against Steve’s ass. “You awake babydoll?”

Steve nodded, letting out a breathless “yeah”.

“Can I touch you?” Bucky asked. 

Steve shuddered as Bucky’s rough fingertips brushed over his stomach. “I’ll kill you if you don’t.”

The chuckle Bucky made rumbled in his throat and down into his chest, vibrating against Steve’s back. It wasn’t the first time they’d touched each other, or even gotten naked together but something about Bucky asking, putting it into words, got him running. 

When Bucky slipped his fingers into Steve’s shorts and brushed the hot skin of Steve’s cock, he swore the temperature went up about a million degrees. 

“Bucky.” Steve breathed out his name like a prayer. “Bucky, please.”

With some maneuvering Steve helps tug his own shorts down around his knees to give Bucky a better angle. He wrapped his hand around Steve’s dick and started with long firm pulls up and down the length of the shaft. Every now and then Bucky would flick the tip of his thumb over the head, pulling ever so slightly at the slit, babbling as he pressed against the firm flesh of Steve’s ass. 

“Oh god baby, you’re the prettiest thing I ever saw. Makes me want to love you good, fuck you hard so everyone knows you’re mine.”

At the last, Steve jerked and gasped, mind reeling at the thought of Bucky being inside him. 

“Want me to fuck you?” Bucky asked. He paused his movement and dropped his voice as he nuzzled his mouth against the shell of Steve’s good ear. “Huh? Bet you’d feel so good on me baby. I’d be gentle with you, show ya’ a good time.”

Steve’s breath came faster and faster; desperate but not quite in the way it did when he was on the verge of an asthma attack. Just when Bucky was about to stop, the gasping turned into a mess of swearing followed by Bucky’s name as he came. 

 

In response Bucky made an embarrassing noise and sped up his hips. Somehow, he’d worked it so his dick was pressing against the seam of his shorts and buried mostly in the dip between Steve’s asscheeks. It wasn’t long before he was rutting his way to orgasm, soaking the front of his shorts. 

They lay there catching their breath until things began to feel sticky and uncomfortable. Bucky let go of Steve and pulled his shorts off, wiping off both their mess as best he could before tossing them over the edge of the bed. 

“Did you mean it?” Steve asked. He propped himself up on one arm as he waited for Bucky to answer. 

“Mean what?”

“That you’re gonna fuck me.” 

Bucky took a minute to reply. “I mean-, uh ya, if you-ya know- if you want me to I can. Just maybe not right now?”

Steve bit his lip and looked away for a moment, trying to gather himself. The thought of Bucky fucking him made his blood boil with want and it was all he could do not to turn over for it then and there. 

“I want you to,” Steve managed finally. “I haven’t thought about it too much, but it sounds really really good.”

Bucky visibly squirmed. “Do you know how?” 

“Yeah, I picked it up here and there.” Mostly from overhearing some of the guys in his art classes, but he wasn’t going to say that now. “I really want it to be you.”

“Jesus Stevie,” Bucky struggled. He took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, as if he needed divine intervention. “You can’t just say shit like that. My brain’s gonna’ run out of my ears.”

“Like you have a brain left,” Steve laughed. He bumped Bucky’s knee with his own, making it clear he didn’t mean it badly. 

“You hungry?” Bucky asked after a minute. A quick glance between his legs told Steve he was still soft. Something in him wanted to crawl on top of Bucky, work him up and please him until he was hard again; hard enough to fuck Steve. But, Steve had to admit, he was a little hungry. 

“A bit.”

“All righty then.” Bucky swung his legs over the edge of the bed and fished around for another pair of shorts. “Let’s go see what we can find.”

After a moment of hesitation Steve followed suit, yanking on Bucky’s t-shirt as he went. He was still sticky and besides, he loved wearing Bucky’s clothes. 

At first it had been an annoying reminder of how small he was; how that promised growth spurt never came. But once they’d started getting more physical and going to bed together, Steve slowly came around to the idea. If he was wearing Bucky’s clothes it usually meant they were alone together and didn’t have to worry about being walked in on. 

Downstairs it turned out there was very little in the kitchen. It was more a product of the household being sans most of the Barnes clan than a lack of money to spend on groceries. In the back of the fridge Bucky found some cold chicken from earlier in the week. 

“Want me to heat it up?” Bucky asked, unwrapping the paper so Steve could see. 

“Cold’s fine.”

Bucky shrugged and sat it on the table. He got out a plate while Steve cut them respectable slices of bread. 

When they were done eating Bucky dragged him back upstairs to lay in bed and kiss. They read some comics too; Bucky had snagged the new copy of Detective Comics a few days back when Mr. Mazowski put it out at the grocers. 

“Don’t get ahead!” Steve protested. While he was still finishing up one page Bucky was trying to turn the corner just a tiny bit so he could start on the nest panel. “I’m looking at the art. This is really good!” 

Bucky skulked and ducked his head against Steve’s shoulder, but gave up trying to get ahead. 

Absently Steve scratched at the back of Bucky’s head as he studied the lines. Bucky shoved closer and sighed happily, preening almost under Steve’s attention. It made Steve laugh; Bucky could be an attention hog when he wanted to be. These days all he wanted was attention from Steve. 

There was still a good ten pages to go when Steve felt Bucky’s cock thickening against his leg. 

“Can I help you?” Steve teased, not looking away from the comic page. When Bucky mumbled something into the crook of his neck, Steve’s laugh turned into a pleased sigh. The hot warmth of open-mouthed kisses made his cheeks warm and cock twitch. 

“Nah,” Bucky said between kisses. “I’m doing good right here.” He left a sucking kiss over Steve’s pulse as if to prove a point. 

Despite his valiant efforts, Steve found himself so distracted and gave up reading. With a gentle touch he leaned over and tucked it neatly on Bucky’s bedside table. 

“You getting’ yourself all hot and bothered?” Steve asked. Between his legs heat pooled while a healthy flush started up on his neck and face. 

“Nah’,” Bucky replied, detaching himself from Steve’s neck. “You’re gettin’ me all hot and bothered, baby. Just laying there in nothing but my shirt. Look good enough to eat.” As he spoke Bucky pressed his groin against Steve’s thigh. He wasn’t full-out humping, but it was a near thing. 

Steve turned his face to kiss Bucky, hard. It all felt so good and the earlier promise of fucking made his insides twist in delicious anticipation. Making time was something Steve had imagined a hundred times since he put together exactly what and how two fellas could get up to with each other. 

“Fuck,” Steve breathed. The words turned into nothing but a warm puff of air between their mouths. He pushed harder against Bucky, eager as always to be closer. 

“You still want me to fuck you?” Bucky pulled back enough that he could look at Steve. 

In response Steve nodded rapidly, trying to find the words to say how badly he wanted it. What came out was a low “yes”. 

“T-there’s Vaseline in the bathroom,” Bucky said. “Let me go get it.” He pressed a kiss to Steve’s mouth before dashing out of the room, his shorts comically tented. While he waited, Steve let one hand drift down to his prick and started jacking himself rhythmically. He slid his other hand under the hem of his- Bucky’s- shirt to roll his nipple between two fingers, sighing with pleasure. 

Just when he bent his knees up to get a better angle, Bucky appeared in the doorway with the jar of Vaseline clutched in his hand. 

“You starting without me?” he joked. Careful not to rock the bed too much, Bucky climbed on the end and kneeled between Steve’s legs. 

“Not at all.” Steve gave his cock one last, long stroke and let go so it bobbed between his thighs. 

It was difficult for Bucky to twist the lid off the Vaseline. His hands were trembling with excitement and just when Steve was about to take it out of his hands and get the lid open himself, the metal cap skittered onto the floor. 

“I’ll get it later,” Bucky said, scooping out a healthy glob. He smeared it on his fingers, coating them until his first two were slick and shiny. “Ready?”

Rather than reply, Steve pushed himself up on his elbows and tilted his face for Bucky to kiss him. Once they broke apart, Steve settled on his back with his knees spread loosely around Bucky’s hips. 

The first touch was a little...embarrassing. After being so used to doctor's visits and physical exams, Steve’s body couldn’t help but read the situation as decidedly not sexy. He squirmed a little under Bucky, trying to decide if he wanted to keep going or not. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked. Worry lines cut across his brow as he stopped his movements. “Do you want to stop?”

“It feels weird. I want to see if it gets better before we stop.” As he spoke Steve tried to keep his voice casual. He wanted it, even if it felt weird. People were so crazy for it and there had to be reason. 

With a few more assurances Bucky finally continued. He worked one finger in, then two, and as he went Steve relaxed more and more. It still felt kind of weird, but in a good way. During it all Steve’s dick had flagged to half-mast at best. When Bucky noticed he took Steve’s hand in his and wrapped both their hands around his cock. 

The combination of Bucky’s fingers inside him and the slow, patient hand around Steve’s dick was heavenly. It didn’t take long for him to return to full hardness, the foreskin pulled back to expose the head, the vein along the underside throbbing against his fingers. 

It all felt so good; Bucky inside him, between his thighs. He was stretched out on Bucky’s bed, surrounded by the sleep-smell of him, with all the time in the world. Just when he thought it couldn’t get any better, Bucky brushed something that made him jolt. 

“Fuck baby, I’m sorry,” Bucky made to remove his fingers, but Steve reached down and grabbed his wrist before he could get very far. 

“It feels good,” Steve told him, making sure his voice was completely serious and not gasping like he really wanted to. “Do it again.”

For a moment Bucky stayed still eyeing Steve’s face and his hole in turn. Finally he settled back in and slowly continued fingering Steve. 

The pace was frustratingly slow, but Steve didn’t push. Each brush of Bucky’s fingertips over that little spot sent pleasure seeping through him. Working in a third finger took a little longer, but it made reaching deep inside easier. Bucky found the spot again and took the opportunity to stroke it, pressing just barely harder than he had previously. 

Steve couldn’t contain the low moan that tumbled from his lips. “Buck, god Buck.” He squirmed enough that Bucky removed his hand from Steve’s cock and placed it on his bony hip to keep him still. 

“That feel good?” Bucky watched Steve’s face as he repeated the motion. 

Steve nodded emphatically. “Feels so, so good. Want you to fuck me.” Driving home his point he pushed back on Bucky’s fingers. 

“Okay okay.” 

When Bucky pulled his fingers out, Steve hated the sudden feeling of emptiness. He’d just started to really, really enjoy it. 

The Vaseline had been carefully tucked in a fold of the blanket to keep it from shattering all over the floor. Steve sat up on his elbows to watch Bucky scoop out some more. This time instead of watching him get ready, Steve sat up fully and help smear the stuff all over Bucky’s cock. 

Steve smeared the slick slowly up and down the length, half making sure they were prepared and half just to see Bucky’s eyes roll back in his head as his hips moved involuntarily. 

“If you keep going I’m gonna pop off,” Bucky finally said. Reluctantly, Steve gave the head one more gentle squeeze and let go.

When Bucky had regained some of his self-control, he pressed them both back to the bed. One hand guided his dick to the right spot, while he leaned on the forearm of the other. With Bucky hovering over him Steve could see the freckles here and there along his nose; could see the flecks of grey in his eyes. 

The moment Bucky’s dick started pressing against Steve’s hole, they both looked down to watch. 

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed. Steve couldn’t see what was happening very well, but he could feel it. 

The blunt pressure of Bucky’s dick against his hole; the slow catch and slide of Bucky’s skin against his own. Slowly, almost gently, Bucky steadily pushed into his body. When the widest part of the head stretched his rim, Steve tensed at the flare of pain. 

“Don’t stop,” he hissed when Bucky started to slow down. 

Bucky opened his mouth to argue, but seemed to change his mind when Steve tried to push himself further down on Bucky’s dick. 

It seemed like a good half of Bucky’s dick was in him when Steve finally admitted to himself that they needed to slow down. 

“Hang on,” he said, gripping Bucky’s hips with his calves. It didn’t do much in the way of actually stopping the force Bucky had been exerting, but got the message across clearly enough. 

“You okay?” 

Steve nodded. “I just, just give me a minute.” He clenched his eyes shut and breathed deeply through his nose. Despite the overwhelming sensation of being too full, his skin stretched to what felt like its breaking point, Steve wanted it. They’d gotten this far and while he knew Bucky would stop in an instant and never bring it up unless Steve did, he still didn’t want to give up halfway there. 

Slowly the pain faded to a manageable level. The entire time Bucky had barely moved a muscle and when Steve looked up, concern was written all over his face. 

“You can move a little,” Steve murmured. 

Bucky nodded. Rather than pressing in like Steve thought he would, Bucky twitched his hips ever so slightly in short, aborted thrusts. Once he pulled back a little further to smear more grease on his dick, but mostly worked with what they had. 

After god knows how long, Bucky was able to work the rest of his dick into Steve. It still hurt a little, but no where the amount Steve had started to expect. The feeling of extreme fullness was back, but in a way that was more pleasureable than overwhelming. He lay there with his eyes closed, trying to take it all in.

“You okay doll?” Bucky’s warm breath tickled Steve’s ear. 

Steve turned his head slightly, pressing part of his cheek against Bucky’s. “Yeah. It’s a lot, but it feels good.”

A dirty grin spread across Bucky’s face. 

“You can move some more,” Steve continued. He ignored the look he was getting and instead settled so his weight was more evenly distributed on his back. 

Bucky too the words to heart and soon he was thrusting in and out of Steve at a steady pace. His cock was full and heavy, dragging across Steve’s insides and sparking a new kind of pleasure. 

When Steve looked him in the face, Bucky was flushed and his eyes practically rolled back in his head. Little whimpering grunts slipped out of his mouth each time he pressed further into Steve’s body. Steve shifted to press back and opened his mouth in a silent scream when it made the head of Bucky’s dick brush against him in a way that was practically sinful. 

God, if this was what it was like every time no wonder people loved it. 

“Fuck Stevie, you feel so good,” Bucky whispered into his neck. His voice was so low and out of it that Steve wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear the words, or if Bucky was speaking unconsciously. “You’re so good to me baby. Can’t believe I’m in you god damn.”

“Nhhhhg.” Steve tipped his head back into the pillow, groaning. He wrapped his thighs around Bucky’s hips and tried to pull him closer. 

There was Vaseline smeared between them and the blankets felt too hot against Steve’s skin, but he didn’t want it to end. Bucky kept thrusting in an irregular rhythm, panting hot words of praise and nonsense as pleasure built deep in Steve’s belly. 

Between the feeling of Bucky inside him, the heat and the sweat and the rub of his dick between their bodies, Steve didn’t last much longer. 

A garbled noise fell from his lips as orgasm overwhelmed him. Warm wetness pulsed between them, smearing all over Steve’s skin and onto Bucky’s. 

“God,” Bucky breathed. His thrusts paused for all of two seconds before he started up a breakneck pace. Steve was riding his own high when Bucky gripped his hips tight enough to bruise and gave a full body shudder. “Fuck fuck fuck,” he chanted under his breath. “Steeeve.” Apparently finished he flopped down on Steve, burying his face in the pillow next to Steve’s head. 

They lay panting in the mess of a bed, not speaking but just touching. Steve’s legs were splayed open around Bucky's hips, making his softening cock press uncomfortably between them. He nudged Bucky, half trying to roll him over and half just to make him move. 

“Fine,” Bucky sighed and rolled off Steve to press against his side. 

When Bucky pulled out Steve winced at the drag; now that he’d come it was considerably less pleasant. He forced his muscles to relax and immediately regretted his decision.

“What’s wrong?” 

“It’s, uh, coming back out.” Steve resolutely did not look at Bucky as he reached down to feel himself. He blanched at the feel of Vaseline and jizz dripping on to the bed. 

“That bad?”

Steve wiped his fingers off on his thigh. “Feels weird; definitely didn’t hear anything about it. But it was worth it,” he added. A flush crept up his neck as he turned his head to look at Bucky. 

Bucky smiled at him and pressed closer to give Steve a kiss. “I love you,” Bucky murmured.

“I love you too.”

~*~

They managed to get everyone and everything cleaned up before the rest of the Barnes clan returned that evening. When the girls burst through the front door and ran up the stairs at top speed Steve and Bucky were sitting at the kitchen table playing a round of cards. 

“How was Aunt Constance?” Bucky asked as he rose to hug his mother. 

Steve said his polite hellos and otherwise hid behind his hand. Even though there was no way to tell what they’d been up to, he felt like it was stamped across his forehead for everyone to see. Every time he shifted in his seat it was a reminder of Bucky thrusting deep inside him, pressed naked against him, touching him in every way. 

As they finished the round of cards, Steve tried to keep his flush in check. The quirk of Bucky’s lips, the lingering smell of soap and sweat, all of it conspired against him. 

“I should probably head home,” Steve said once they were done. He folded his cards back into the deck and slid it across the table. 

“You sure?” Bucky asked, frowning. He glanced over his shoulder at his parents in the living room before leaning in close. “They won’t mind if you stay. And we don’t have to, you know…”

Heat flared between Steve’s legs at Bucky’s implication. They didn’t have to, but he knew he’d want to if they slept in the same bed. 

“I know.”

“Ok.” Bucky shrugged and placed the deck on the bookshelf as Steve said his goodbyes to Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. 

Bucky accompanied him two blocks down like he usually did, and stopped so they were under the fire escape for the tailor’s building. 

“See you tomorrow?” Bucky asked. 

Steve nodded. “Yeah, when we done with Mass.” He looked around and saw no one was near. Quickly he darted in and pecked a kiss to Bucky’s mouth. “Thanks.”

“Hey, I’m pretty sure I should be thanking you.” The sappy grin on Bucky’s face balanced out the teasing in his voice. 

Steve wanted to do nothing more than kiss him again. 

That night when he climbed into bed, Steve couldn’t help but replay that afternoon over and over in his head. With his face in the pillow and his hands down his pants, Steve resolved to make sure that he kept Vaseline on hand at all times.


	4. Summer 1937

Sarah Rogers was dead. 

She was six feet under next to her husband, clutching a rosary and the promise that her son would be safe and loved. 

The Rogers’ lease wasn’t up for another couple months but, Bucky found himself spending more and more time there. At first it had been just a night or two here and there. He’d slept on the couch while Steve slept on the trundle bed between the couch and the doorway to his Ma’s bedroom. 

After a few weeks it turned into them staying up too late together. He’d crawl into bed with Steve only to rush off to work the next morning. The first few times Bucky came home in two-day clothes and needing a bath Mrs. Barnes just pursed her lips and turned the other way. Bucky was pretty sure she knew about them; but this time he could honestly say the time he spent with Steve wasn’t because they were necking, but the grief. 

When there was barely two weeks left on the lease (not that Bucky was counting) he started rolling around an idea in the back of his mind. For all the horrible circumstances that brought it about, the semi-routine he had with Steve was comfortable. And, he liked to think, it was good for Steve not to be rattling around the apartment alone and full of sadness.

After careful consideration and some sleuthing around the neighborhood, Bucky brought it up to Steve.  

“So I’ve been thinking,” Bucky began. It was what was becoming  a normal night; they were draped over the couch after dinner, Steve with his head in Bucky’s lap. In the background the wireless buzzed with staticky jazz music.

Steve snorted. “Don’t strain yourself. Ow!” He rubbed at the spot on his elbow where Bucky pinched him. There was no real heat in his voice when he said “jerk”. 

“I’m being serious here.” Bucky removed any sort of tease from him voice, trying to sound nonchalant, but not flippant. “It’s getting kinda cramped over at my folks, what with the girls getting older and all. I poked around a bit and found some rooms up for rent. I thought we could move in together.”

Steve frowned and sat up. “I know it’s kind of...weird here now that Ma…” He turned to face Bucky as he spoke. Grief twisted Steve’s face for a moment before he schooled it back to neutral. “Don’t offer this out of pity or obligation, because I don’t need either.”

“That’s not why I’m asking,” Bucky told him. Ignoring the sting of Steve’s words, he pressed on. “I’m asking you to move in with me because I want you to. We’d only need one bedroom so it wouldn’t cost much. It’ll be like a sleepover every night, but no one has to go home.” 

Steve was quiet for a few minutes, staring down at the floor. The seconds ticked by and more than once Bucky was sure his heart would thump out of his chest. When Steve looked back up there was a small smile on his face. “Well when you put it like that...Bucky, I would love to move in with you.”

Bucky tugged Steve into a firm kiss, smiling uncontrollably.  

That night as Bucky snugged up against Steve’s back, he imagined they were already living together. As he tried on the idea for size, he found it fit pretty good. 

*  
Bucky looked around a little bit more, but Steve was the one who found the apartment. An old classmate gave him a heads-up about it at an “Artists for Political Change” meeting one night. Two days later they went down to speak with the landlord and walked out with keys to the front door. 

Packing up Steve’s things and sorting through his Ma’s belongings was a new exercise in torture; and Bucky wasn’t even there for half of it. There was no undoing Sarah’s death, no balm that would soothe the hurt or take away the pain. The least Bucky could do was respect Steve’s right to mourn in peace; he’d been forced to share his grief with enough people already. 

For Bucky packing up was considerably easier. All of his clothes fit into two ratty old carpet suitcases and his modest collection of serials and comics went into his old school bag. 

As Bucky packed away the last of his things and tied up the room behind him, his sisters hovered. The two oldest girls flitted back and forth between Bucky’s room and theirs. Once he overheard them arguing about who would take it over. Gertie laid claim by saying she was the oldest out of the three; Frances argued that she was taller. 

Bucky was dropping his bags in the front hallway when his mother appeared from the washroom. 

“So,” she began, depositing the laundry on the couch. “When will I get to come see your new place?”

Bucky shrugged. “Whenever we get it looking decent.”

“You and Steve?” she guessed. 

“Yes.” 

Mrs. Barnes stared at him with a critical eye, arm crossed and mouth pressed into a thin line. After a minute she sighed. “James Buchanan Barnes, I can't begin to understand half the things you get up to. But if that boy loves you half as much as you love him, I suppose you’ll be alright.”

Bucky moved to her and wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders. It wasn’t an outright blessing, but it wasn’t a disownment either. Either way, it was more than he had hoped for. 

“You two be careful,” she whispered in his ear. 

“We will,” he promised. “The new place is over in DUMBO,” Bucky told her once he’d let go.  

“Sounds very...bohemian,” Mrs. Barnes said, politely. 

“Kind of.” Bucky pecked her cheek. “It’s not Hell’s Kitchen, so there’s that. We’ll have you over for dinner sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

When Bucky looked over his shoulder, the last thing he saw before walking out the door was his mother’s smile.   
-  
Moving in took most of the weekend. Aside from moving their sparse belongings, there was the matter of getting rid of everything Steve was letting go. 

The kitchen table belonged to the land-lord so it was easy enough. The couch was half decent and with a little help they got it down to DUMBO. What little cookware and personal belongings that weren’t being given away or sold were boxed up and moved. 

Getting everything from point A to point B turned out to be the easy part. Less easy, or harmonious, was actually setting up house. 

“Steve!” Bucky called, rummaging through the drawer. “Where are the spoons?”

“In the cabinet!”

Bucky swore and closed the drawer. The fuck were the spoons doing in the cabinet? “Spoons go in the damn drawer,” he muttered to himself. Once he found them, Bucky went about moving the spoons down to the drawer with the forks and knives. 

Clearly, only food and towels went in the cabinets. And maybe soap. Re-arranging things might make Bucky a bit late for work, but it was worth not stumbling in after a nine-hour shift and having to eat dinner with a knife because he couldn’t find the goddamn utensils. 

Just as he finished re-homing the cutlery, Steve rushed in from the bedroom. “I’ve got an interview for WPA. See you tonight!” Steve pecked a quick kiss on Bucky’s cheek before zooming out the door. 

“Asthma!” Bucky yelled after him out of reflex more than anything. With a sigh he turned back to the percolator. 

~*~*~*~

Friday night found Steve making a half-hearted attempt at dinner. Bucky was out for the evening with one of the girls down the hall, putting on a sham for her parents. Steve used the opportunity to take over their bathtub-cum-kitchen table to try to make some headway on his WPA commission.

The theme was patriotic optimism (as if that weren’t already the case). SO far he’d sketched out a grumpy Lady Liberty and a half-dozen disproportionate iterations of Roosevelt and Uncle Sam. Making dinner, Steve reasoned, was a good reason to take a break. 

He cut up some potatoes to boil with a small chicken leg, bone and all, and put it on the stove. Money was still tight, though not as bad as it had been a few years ago. Part of the reason Bucky agreed to play beard with Agnes was because she’d paid his subway fare and promised to split the generous portion of leftovers her folks always sent her home with. It was a decent arrangement- it kept Agnes in her parents good graces and shielded Bucky from being pegged as a queer. 

Having the apartment to himself sometimes wasn’t that bad. 

After a few more hours of prodding at the sketches, Steve gave up and went to bed. He put away his pencils and washed the pot from dinner, but left the light on for Bucky. In their bed he flipped through a few pages of The Hobbit before turning off the lamp and burying himself in the blankets. 

Steve had just dozed off when he woke to the jiggle of the lock, followed by the loud squeak as Bucky tried to ease it closed. 

“Hey Buck,” he said, rolling on his back. 

Momentarily Bucky froze in the bedroom doorway, before moving again. 

“Thought you were asleep, punk.”

“Was until some bigfoot came tromping in,” Steve replied. He stifled a yawn as he watched Bucky’s outline move around the room. “How was it?”

“Eh, it was ok,” said Bucky, not sounding enthused. “But, I think we’re going to have to split up before too long. Her folks kept trying to bring up engagement an all. Gonna miss the food.”

When Bucky crawled in bed Steve backed up against his chest. He smelled like soap and sweat and a little like smoke; like a fella should after a night out with a girl. Agnes smoked some, Steve knew, and he could imagine them on the subway platform with matching clouds of smoke.

“I gotta work part of a shift in the morning,” Bucky said. His nose was buried in Steve’s neck, ticklling the skin there with every inhale and exhale. Steve shifted, but made no real effort to move away. 

“Mmm kay. Didn’t figure you were coming to mass anyway.”

“Me and god got an agreement,” Bucky sighed. He pressed a kiss to Steve’s shoulder. “See you in the morning.”

“G’night.”

 

Steve made it home from mass before Bucky got back from work. He wasn’t terribly suprised; half the time Bucky ended up staying late to help Mr. Formacelli with this or that. Just as Steve was debating the merits of wrestling with his WPA piece, he heard familiar footsteps on the stairs. 

The front door opened and closed behind him as Steve sat on the couch looking at his sketchbook.   

“Hey Bucky,” he said, not looking up. “How was work?”

“It was fine.”

“You end up staying over?”

“Nah.”

There was the usual rustle of Bucky moving around; taking off his cap and hanging his coat. A moment later he walked over to Steve and stood directly in front of them.  

He wasn’t wearing his work uniform, was the first thing Steve noticed when he finally glanced up. Bucky was way more cleaned up than he usually was when he headed out to load and unload the trucks at the grocers. 

In fact, he was dressed up about as much as Steve had been for mass that morning. 

Before Steve could say anything, Bucky carefully dropped to his knees in front of Steve.  

“Stevie, I wanna ask you something.” Bucky paused for a moment, pulled something out of his jacket pocket.  You don’t gotta say yes. And I know you ain’t a girl, that’s not why I’m asking. But, will you marry me?” 

Bucky held out his hand, two brass rings sitting in the middle of his palm. 

Something fizzled in Steve’s chest, bubbling and thumping like his heart was trying to climb out of his body. His mouth went dry and his palms started sweating and for what felt like forever he couldn’t string together enough words to form a coherent sentence. 

“I-I would. I will,” he corrected himself. It was like something straight outta the romance pictures Bucky pretended he didn’t like; Steve couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him. 

Without warning Bucky rose up on his knees and yanked Steve into a tight hug. Steve pressed close, like he could crawl inside Bucky’s skin and turn them into one person. 

“I was worried you were gonna say no,” Bucky told him. 

“You were stuck with me since day one,” Steve replied, pressing his face into Bucky’s neck. He was overwhelmed with the familiar scent of soap and sweat and Brylcreem. “Now you definitely aren’t gonna get rid of me. Hope you know that.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple. “I wouldn’t get rid of you in a million years. Put too much damn effort in keeping you alive.”

Steve pushed impossibly closer. One arm still wrapped around Bucky’s waist he slid the other hand down Bucky’s arm to clasp their hands. When his fingers touched warm metal, Bucky reluctantly broke their embrace. 

“Since we’re both dressed and all, I thought we could go tie the knot now.” 

“Buck, I don’t think any priest is going to marry us. Especially not on a Sunday.”

Bucky shrugged. “Not anyone at the churches. But you know Eustice next floor up and three doors over?” 

Steve nodded. “Yeah. What about him?”

“Well, turns out he was all set to be a priest back in Italy.” A smirk of a grin crossed Bucky’s face as he told the story. “Long story short, a month or so before he’s all set to take his vows of poverty and whatnot he runs into Francis. They fall in love and all that jazz and move themselves over here to the big queer capital of Brooklyn. He agreed to shepherd us into eternal marital bliss, seeing as the father down at Mass won’t.”

With every word Steve’s excitement built, threatening to spill over. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

Steve clung to Bucky with every ounce of his strength for a moment, trying to convey all of the love he felt. “Well Mr. Barnes,” he said, standing up. “Let’s go get hitched.”

Bucky led them up to Eustice and Francis’ living room. Both were done up in their Sunday best; Eustice standing by the window with a bible in hand while Francis let them in. 

“We were starting to worry,” Francis said, shutting the door. 

Bucky said something in reply and soon Steve was standing face to face with him in front of Eustice. They were far away enough from the window that the proceedings couldn’t be seen from the street, but close enough that the midday light covered everything with a warm glow. 

“Are you ready?” Eustice asked. He’d already turned to the right page and had his palm flat over the thin paper. 

Without hesitation, Steve nodded at the same time as Bucky. 

“OK then.” With a deep breath Eustace began to recite the vows. 

At the appropriate place Bucky slid the little brass ring on Steve’s finger and vice versa. If not for the touch of the metal Steve would have thought it all a dream; a fantasy. 

The whole ceremony was a formality; a frivolous thing that didn’t really make a difference one way or another in the eyes of the law. And Steve knew he’d be tied to Bucky for the rest of their lives no matter what. But marking their commitment, making it something they could point to and say “there” was a pipe dream come true that he hadn’t dared let himself think about. 

When Eustice pronounced them married, Steve threw himself at Bucky and kissed him hard as he could. He tried to pour every promise, every piece of his soul into it. Bucky gripped him just as tightly in return. 

“Congratulations,” Francis told them when they broke apart. 

“There’s cake,” Bucky whispered, just loud enough that Steve could hear. 

“Cake?” Steve whispered back. His outrageous grin was partly from the idea of cake, and mostly from the fact that he’d just gotten “married”. “What are we waiting for then?”

The cake was down in their room. It was from the automat, but Steve was pretty damn sure it was the best he’d ever had. 

After they’d carried a second piece up to Francis and Eustice, Bucky dragged Steve off to bed. 

“Gotta make sure we spend our first night together like newlyweds,” Bucky told him between kisses. 

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s not night yet,” he pointed out. 

“I don’t hear you complaining.”

Steve tried to string together a response and failed miserably. Later, when they were sticky and sweaty, Steve curled up against Bucky’s side happy and sated.

“I love you,” he said quietly. And for all that they’d kissed and said their vows and gone to bed, Steve felt like he conveyed his heart best in those three little words.

“Love you too,” Bucky said back. 

Steve was sure there would never be anything better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done! 
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos! <3


	5. Chapter 5

FALL 1942

Dear Bucky,

Things haven’t been too exciting. Mr. Farmacelli keeps complaining about your replacement; apparently he’s no good at keeping produce unbruised. I’m still at the parachute factory and I think I’ve seen more silk than Agnes and Dora combined. They’ve kept me on over the other new hires because my fingers can actually keep up. It took every ounce of self-restraint I have not to die laughing when they told me that (hope you’re proud of yourself). 

It’s boring at home without you. Aside from the fact that there’s no one to help keep things neat...well, actually that isn’t so different. For once I’m not finding your smelly socks all over the place. 

The weather is still freezing. I miss having you in bed with me to keep me warm. It just isn’t the same when I get the hot water bottle and wrap it up in one of your old flannels. For one you’re a heck of a lot better looking. And I’ve found it doesn’t tell me terrible jokes while it's trying to make time with me. 

Are you learning anything at boot camp? I’ve tried to imagine what it would be like, but all I can think of are those old books about the Civil War we had to read for school. 

I can’t think of anything else right now, so I guess this is it. 

I love you and miss you,   
Steve.

Dear Bucky,

I know I just sent you a letter and you probably haven’t even gotten it yet, but here’s another one. 

Last night I had the best/worst dream. You and I were the only ones in it. 

Do you remember that time you fucked me in the kitchen right when you got home from work? You picked me up and did me right there on the counter by the sink. We didn’t even hardly get undressed for it. 

That’s what I was dreaming about last night. 

The way you picked me up so easy and that face you made when I put my mouth on you. 

 

Dear Steve,

It’s snowing today and I’m glad you aren’t sick. 

Now, you can’t just send me letters like that. When I opened it up and read it I thought I was going to explode right here in front of God and everybody. I’ve had so many dreams this week because of that letter, you wouldn’t believe. 

I miss you too. I miss your body and the way you feel and all the sweet things you say to me when we’re in bed. You fit in my arms just perfectly, like we were made for each other.

With so many guys around its hard to pretend that I’m there with you, but I do my best. When I close my eyes I think about your pink little tits and your wet little hole all slicked up for me. The way you just open up for me all ready and worked up. And the noises, god the noises you make when I’ve got you under me or you’re up on top riding me like it’s the end of the world. 

I wish I was there to take care of you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to make my best girl cum her brains out. I’d put my mouth on you while I get you ready and then I’d put you up on the table and take you right there. 

See how much you work me up and you aren’t even here?

Since I had to take a break after the first part of my letter, I guess I’ll make the rest something clean and wholesome. 

So far it’s been just boring stuff. We drill sergeant had us run in the snow yesterday. It doesn’t melt here like it does in Brooklyn so that took some getting used too. I didn’t do too hot, but I wasn’t last either. After we did push-ups like usual, but they had us on the walkway where it was cleared off. 

Next week they’re going to test us with our accuracy on the rifles. Most of us already knew how to shoot a pistol which made things go a lot faster. There's a rumor that some of the better guys might get pulled for special training towards the end, but none of our CO’s have said anything about it. I really hope it’s a rumor because I want to be home as soon as possible. 

Everyone had pictures of their girl. Can you send something of you doll? Nothing fancy. Hell, I’d be happy with a sock at this point. Whenever the other fellas brag about their girls I have to make sure I keep my mouth shut and don’t talk their ears off about how strong and pretty and smart you are. If I had the words I’d write poems about your mouth, but I don’t so I’ll just settle for thinking about them and how much I want to kiss you.

Keep out of trouble sweetheart and take care of yourself.   
Love you lots,  
Bucky

 

“Another letter to the missus?” asked Dum-Dum. He was flopped out across his bunk, one over from Bucky. 

“We ain’t really married yet,” Bucky replied, climbing onto his own sorry excuse for a bed. “So don’t go calling her that to her face. 

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh a little at the idea of ever introducing Steve and Dum-Dum, letting alone saying they were married. Maybe he should have joined the navy instead…

“I will be a perfect gentleman to your gal Barnes. Now, what’s her name?”

Dum-dum barely dodged the shoe Bucky threw his way. 

Dear Bucky,

I’ve sent you some little pictures. One or two are of me, but the rest are just for fun. They’re a little rough, but I figured you could have a piece of home this way. 

Agnes took me to dinner with her folks last week. It was really nice-- everyone was dressed and there were two or three forks and spoons. I think I used the wrong one more than once, but no one said anything. 

Anyway, her folks seemed like they couldn’t figure out how to take me. (I think that was a hoot for Agnes.) THere won't be too many invitations, but Agnes said I can fill-in until you get back. 

This part is kind of embarrassing to write down, but I really miss you and your body. Our bed seemed so much bigger with you gone. I’d even be okay with your snoring if it meant you’d be here to touch me. 

Remember the time we fucked on the counter when we had just moved in? You just kept giving it to me harder and harder until I thought I was gonna die it felt so good. WHenever I think about it I finger myself and pretend it's you. My hands aren’t quite the same as yours (or your Johnson) but it still gets me all worked up.

There’s a whole lotta other times I think about too, but the kitchen counter has been my favorite lately. If I send you a naughty picture can you keep it a secret? Nothing too bad, but I don’t want to get you in trouble. 

That’s all I’ve got now. Nothing much else is happening. Try to stay warm! 

From your love,  
Stevie

 

 

June 1943  
Stevie,

I know we argued before I left and I hate leaving it that way. So, I’m sorry. Even though you’re so strong I worry you won’t be there when I get back. That they’ll ship you off as cannon fodder like some knucklehead from New Jersey. 

You have no idea how much I want for this all to be over. When I get back we could find a place outta the city to live all married with kids and maybe a dog or something. 

 

I had to start another letter because I was getting all choked up. One last serious part. Whatever it is that you were doing at Stark’s show, be smart about it. Don’t let them yank your chain about enlisting. 

Remember, you have to be there to welcome me home with the rest of the Weeping Wives Brigade.   
XO, Bucky

 

Dear Bucky,

Sorry I haven’t written you much of anything yet. Just after you shipped out I was accepted for the program. Don’t worry, they aren’t gonna toss me out in front of the Krauts or anything. I do have to go through at least a little basic (the boss says it’s just a formality. And yes, I’ll be careful). 

I’m really excited about it. I’m not allowed to talk about it with anyone, even if most of it is still under wraps. So that’s all I can say on that. 

But I’m glad they took me. When you were gone for basic I thought I was gonna go out of my mind without you. This way maybe it won’t feel so long before you come home. I miss you, but I guess protecting our freedom is a good enough reason to share you with Uncle Sam. 

Yours always,  
Stevie

P.S. Here’s the forwarding address for while I’m training. 

 

S,

I can’t fucking believe you ran off and wormed your way into some secret war project. Swear to god there’s always been a reason I had to come fish you out of back alley trash cans as kids. I shoulda known there’s no way you’d have outgrown it by now. 

There’s a million things I want to scream, but they’ll do fuck-all with you being all the way over there and me being all the way over here. So I’ll tell you what it’s like and maybe you’ll change your mind about it. 

First off everything is wet. I didn’t think it rained this damn much anywhere, but here I am sitting in my damp shirt that won’t dry out even if I set it on fire. All the rain makes everything muddy. Swear it’s worse than the sand that got in our clothes over on the beach. At least that shit is dry.

Dum Dugan Dum-Dum makes the worst coffee I’ve ever had. The only thing going for it is that it’s warm. I’m pretty sure that time I accidentally drank your paint water tasted better than what he makes. Can’t believe I’m in Italy and instead of fine Italian grub we’re stuck with beenie weenies and some stuff I’m not sure is even really food. Sometimes I think it's just a test to see how far the mess can take it before there’s a revolt. 

Take it from me, the front is even worse than it seems like on the newsreels. At least then you can neck with your date.

Bucky

P.S. Even though I know I 

P.S. Keep sending me letters honey. As mad as I was, I still want to hear from you. Maybe your top-secret job will make the war end early so we can get back to playing house. 

 

Dear Bucky,

It turns out I definitely won’t be seeing any of the fighting. (That should cheer you up.)The program lost one of the major supporters so it’ changing directions. My friend from the program died not too long in; he was the one that made it all possible. 

Right now it’s a lot of sitting around waiting for higher ups to make decisions. Like you said about the army, hurry up and wait. Hopefully we’ll hear something soon. 

There’s one of my CO’s from basic that I think you’d like. I’m not allowed to say any names, so I’ll just call them C. But C had a hand in putting us through basic and was with me when I officially became a member. C reminds me of you a lot. You look similar and have a lot of the same personality. Sometimes it helps when I really miss you the worst, and sometimes seeing C just makes it hurt more. If we ever get the chance, I’d like to introduce you.

Don’t be too hard on Dum-Dum (is that really his name?) about the coffee. Before you know it you and I will be back in Brooklyn and I’ll make you all the terrible coffee you could possibly want. 

Your love, S

 

September 1943  
Stevie,

What’s with all the post-cards? Uncle Sam sending you on a tour of the grand ole US of A? You better tell me all about it when I get back. Better yet, you better take me to all these amazing places. We never did get to honeymoon did we sweetie? Just think about it, the two of us on the open road with no one to bother us. 

We’re getting moved around some, still in Italy. Can’t say anymore in case the Krauts are nabbing our letters, but I’ll do my best to keep sending you things. God I hope it's somewhere warm next. Feels like the cold gets here faster than it does back home. 

Remember our first apartment together? I’d give anything to be back there now. All nice and warm and snugged up in bed with you. Or on the couch. Or in the tub. I'm not picky; as long as you’re there and no one’s shooting’ at us. Oh, and it has to be warm. But I’m pretty sure as long as you’re around we can figure out a way to keep our body heat up. 

I’ve been bragging on you again. Telling everyone how great my sweetheart is; how smart and how beautiful. Half the guys don’t believe me, not that I blame them. Some days I wouldn’t believe me. But damn am I a lucky fella to have you back on the homefront.

Knowing I have you to come home to makes it easier to get up in the morning. Makes me want to win the war faster so I can get home to you. 

Love,  
Your Bucky

 

Bucky,

They’ve got me traveling for work. Things didn’t exactly work out how I thought they would, but what they have me doing is better than nothing. I’m getting sent all over, so I thought the postcards might make you smile. Hope I was right. 

Love, S

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So those troop movements Bucky mentions? Yeah, that would be Azzano. 
> 
> I headcanon that there were some lost letters between Bucky getting captured and Steve storming the (Hydra) castle, but I didn't want to end things on a sad note. So, lets just pretend they had a happy ending and sent each other stupidly sweet letters for the rest of the war. 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos!


End file.
